Indoctrination
by Quinndolynn
Summary: The final step in joining the SGC: Hearing all the stories...(SJ)


Indoctrination

((There's a lot more to the SGC then what's in the mission reports. Weir, the President, you have to wonder how much they actually knew. Because there are some things that are only passed on to a ready, willing audience… I'm unsure as to how Fresh Ickles would be treated at the actual base, or in general, but my (very loose interpretation, I'll grant you) has them interacting with the older folks.))

The new recruits swiveled in their chairs, eyes fixed firmly to the table. Under any circumstances they would have been uncomfortable, whisked away under this mountain, keenly aware of all the conversations that died as they approached. They were here for something big, something very important, and very secret, and that was enough to make even the biggest braggart a little shy.

But they were especially quiet now because they were all busy pretending they weren't trying to hear what was being said in the little office that presided over the briefing room. It was no use, of course. The little concrete cube was as effectively soundproofed as all the other rooms on the base, but that didn't stop the newbies from speculating as to the nature of the words exchanged between the grizzled old general, and the strikingly blond woman.

Whatever their argument was about it was drawing to a close. The general stood, and held the door for the woman, as they exited his office.

"I'm General O'Neill," the man said in introduction. "This is Colonel Carter, my 2IC."

She nodded, and her face softened somewhat. Several crushes were born on the spot.

"You're lucky it's SG-1 on training rotation," the group was told in the commissary.

"Why?" someone asked curiously.

Disgusted looks were exchanged, at these children's ignorance. Did they not know they were in the presence of greatness? It must be remedied.

The tale spinning began.

General O'Neill was the same suicidal colonel who had first gone through the gate. An Asgard ship had been named after him. Daniel Jackson the one who had first deciphered the gate. He'd died, ascended, and come back to life. Teal'c had betrayed his God. He was the most hunted Jaffa in the galaxy. Colonel Carter had offered to arm-wrestle the then colonel O'Neill when they first met and she was just a captain. Dr. Carter, her alter ego, was one of the most brilliant minds on the face of the planet.

They were the most hated Tauri of the Goa'uld.

They'd saved the world more times than anyone could count.

They were, to put it simply, the best.

The recruits were suitably impressed.

They were even more so, when the General made a personal visit to the alpha site to oversee their training.

"General," Colonel Carter greeted him with obvious surprise. Her charges exchanged knowing glances. They still remembered the scene witnessed on the day of their first briefing. For all their escapades, it seemed the General and Colonel had their share of differing opinions.

"Colonel," the General returned cheerfully.

"What are you doing here, sir?"

"Came to see the new recruits of course."

She looked skeptical.

He looked sheepish.

"Ok," he finally admitted, "I needed to get out of the house. Or at least away from the paperwork!"

She bit her lip to hide her smile.

The recruits exchanged looks of astonishment. Was it even possible? Were the members of SG-1 actually friendly?

Of course they were, the younglings were informed with a certain amount of disgust, when they were next in the commissary. SG-1 was practically family to its members. Daniel was seen as a younger brother by the other three. Teal'c, the oldest sibling. They looked out for each other, kidded each other, and comforted when need be. They were the best of friends.

Yet another reason to aspire to be like them then. As time passed and the recruits were assigned to teams, they found themselves growing close to their fellow teammates. Still they occasionally congregated in the commissary for old times sake. One such occasion found them discussing the latest clash of wills between the base commander and his 2IC.

It was generally agreed, with much sarcasm, that they would wind up killing each other one day.

"Of course not," one of the old-timers, who had first introduced them to life at the SGC, scoffed.

His statement was met with polite disbelief.

"It's not what you think."

More disbelief.

"You see, they're madly in love with each other."

Plain shock now.

"Can't do a thing about it, of course."

Dawning comprehension.

"Regs, and such."

Horror.

"It's been like this for years."

Sorrow.

"But every so often one of them will slip up, when they've been wounded, or trapped offworld, and you'll see how much they love each other."

The tale spinning began for third and final time, and they listened like the wide-eyed children they still were at heart. These young fighters that that had sat here so many times before, first to hear of their exploits, then of their affection for one another, and now of the tragedy that bound them together.

So it was that the recruits passed finally into the ranks of the SGC, as they heard the stories of their base commander, and his beautiful, brilliant 2IC, so that when their turn came they could pass this most carefully guarded of secrets down to another batch of impressionable youngsters.

Shock and horror, grief and sorrow. That is the life of the SGC. That is the life of the four people who embody it, and the two people who are trapped by it.

But the final emotion is hope.

((This…went somewhere at the end. The original idea was just for the recruits to completely misunderstand Sam and Jack's relationship, and put it at the opposite end of the spectrum, and to have someone very bluntly correct them. But along the way it turned into a rite of passage, passing on knowledge thing, and then a Pandora's box metaphor…Really I have no idea what happened. I'm posting this in the hopes that someone can tell me. Please.))


End file.
